Of Sphinxes and Riddles
by SwordStitcher
Summary: Edward Nigma has a plan to catch the elusive Sphinx. It's going to work, it's got to - For the sake of his underwear drawer.


A/N: This is kinda disjointed and I seem to have fixated on the underwear a little, but cest la vie. Sphinx belongs to Bat-Teen 28, she wanted agressive and flirty and I hope I delivered. I was also given absolute permission to harass Edward Nigma. Not his, but it was permission.

Enjoy.

* * *

'I've found your little lair, Sphinx.' Edward taunted her. 'Come out and face me!'

The warehouse was silent and empty, but it had been occupied not too long ago. The poker table still held steaming mugs of coffee and the ashes from cigarettes were still glowing.

Someone had left in a hurry.

She'd been one step ahead of him, again.

How? How was she doing it? She taunted and ridiculed him at every turn, knew his every move by instinct! He needed a new plan. He was always close, always within striking distance but however hard and fast he struck, she was always… Gone.

It was driving him insane. It really was. To think a criminal could best him was just infuriating. He was meant to be the best. Better than Batman!

Edward Nigma needed something new.

As he stood in the freezing, filthy warehouse on the docks, he had the most brilliant idea. A slow, deliberate smirk wound its way up his lip.

The only way he was ever going to catch her was if she had the right incentive. He would set a trap with something he knew she could not possibly resist. A riddle.

He'd leave them everywhere just to get her attention.

It'd be glorious.

It'd be grand.

It'd lead her straight into a trap.

And he- Edward Nigma - would finally pack her off to Arkham and never see her again.

This had better work. He was getting sick of her breaking into his apartment and stealing from his underwear drawer. The entire contents of his underwear drawer. For gods sakes, they were silk and highly expensive. Three times this week.

He was going to catch her, if only to save his last remaining vestiges of dignity.

* * *

She'd found quite a few of the puzzles he'd left, but then again so had Batman. Of course once he'd explained the whole plan to the caped menace, Batman backed off, but not before warning him he was playing a very dangerous game.

Of course he was. But so was she.

Edward wanted her dealt with, now. He needed to focus on several new cases he'd been given and her incessant attempts to get him to notice her was pure distraction.

This felt…Easy. Very easy to him. Just a little exhilarating too.

He watched the webcams he'd hidden around the puzzles as she flitted from one to another, trying to work out the meaning.

He watched as an epiphany seemed to overcome her and she rushed off.

He let out a low throaty chuckle as she headed for the docks and her old warehouse. When she got there, she'd find a nice surprise instead of him.

* * *

'How does it feel to be on the receiving end?' Edward crooned as Mist came to. She was tied quite well to the chair. Tied and handcuffed. Edward did not want to take a chance she was going to escape.

The plan had been to capture her and lock her in Arkham, but he found he was hesitating. He could simply call the police at any time he chose and have her carted off. He may as well taunt and ridicule her as she had done to him numerous times.

'Are we playing this game?' Mist gave a sluggish laugh as she straightened.

If she thought this was a joke, she was sorely mistaken. 'This is not a game to me.' Edward hissed. 'I don't want, nor do I appreciate your affections.'

'Is this over the last time we met?' Sphinx sighed.

'A little.' Edward conceded darkly.

She gave a short laugh, much to his growing anger. 'I've still got them you know.'

'They're fifteen dollars a pair!' He hissed.

'They're so comfortable-'

He felt his face heat up, despite his attempts at calm he could feel the rage.

This was going worse than he'd anticipated. She knew exactly what to say to make his blood boil.

He took a step back and ran a hand through his hair in thought. It stuck up in tufts that some women – normal women, not this crazy harpy- had called adorable but he hardly seemed to care.

He needed a new approach.

'Why are you targeting me?' He moaned. 'Of all the detectives in the world- Batman! Why can't you be obsessed with Batman?'

'Batman is a two-bit tool.'

Well, he couldn't very well refute that but still…

'I have done everything in my power to show you I'm completely uninterested.' He threw his hands up and stalked back and forth in front of her.

'It's funny, Eddie-'

'Don't call me that!' He snarled.

'-This whole thing used to be the other way around.' She smirked. 'You used to insist _I_ was a criminal, _your_ criminal-'

'Oh not this again.' Edward sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'I don't care. Is that so hard to grasp?'

'Cut the bull. I can tell you're attracted to me. Even now.'

'I highly doubt that.'

'Your pupils are dilated.' She pointed out.

'There was a powerful anaesthetic gas running through here not too long ago.' He stuttered. 'That doesn't prove a thing-'

'What's the matter Eddie? Can't even keep control when you're around me?' She teased.

If she was surprised by the slap, she hid it superbly. He'd hit her hard too, his own hand was tingling with pain. She turned back to look at him and he could easily see the mark he'd left across her face. He let out a breath he didn't even realise he'd been holding.

This was getting out of control. He wasn't going to lower himself to her standard of warfare.

He turned his back and flipped open his phone.

'Gordon. I have Sphinx.'

He turned back to taunt her with his conversation only to find the chair empty and the rope cut. How long had she been free? Certainly before the slap, and yet she hadn't brought her arms up to defend herself, she'd let him do it.

'Motherf-' He hissed.

'Excuse me?' Gordon demanded over the phone.

'I _had_ her.' He sighed.

'She's escaped?'

'Yes.' He growled.

And tonight, his underwear drawer was going to be empty…again.

One of these days, he was going to grab hold of her and keep his grip until they got her to Arkham.

* * *

Two weeks later, he received a packet through the mail, no return address; the ink was a metallic gold.

Of course he knew instantly who this was from and it was confirmed when he carefully slit it open after a very thorough check for traps and tipped it onto his desk.

It was a pair of underwear. His underwear.

That little-


End file.
